Captive in the Dark

Caleb was a strange person, cruel and inhuman; a monster, and yet, at other times, he seemed so capable of something like caring. He made me cry and scream and shake with fear and nearly a split second later he could make me almost believe he wasn't responsible for any of it. He could hold me and make me feel safe. How was that possible? I guess I'm more gullible than I'd ever thought.

Slowly, as I stared at the curtains, I witnessed a sight I'd been missing for a long time. Daylight made its big debut, turning the curtains a slightly lighter shade. My heart quickened and anxiety coursed through me. It felt like Christmas morning.

I went slowly for Caleb's hand, gently urging it away from my breast. He grunted, and for a moment I was perfectly still, terrified. He sighed gruffly, and then, to my overwhelming relief, he rolled over. I was free of him. More surprisingly, I was free of the gold cord he’d secured around my wrist. Refusing to give it much thought and perhaps too quickly, I slid out of bed and crawled toward the light.

I pulled back the curtains, just a crack, but when the sunlight hit my eyes it made my head hurt. I shut my eyes tightly. It had been so damn long! I opened my eyes slowly. This time I saw what my soul had been aching to see for so long. I saw light; beautiful, warm, safe, light. I could barely keep from tearing up. For a moment I felt as though everything that had happened thus far had been a dream, and now that the sun was up, I could wake from it. I would never fall asleep again. The monsters would never come back. I opened the curtain a bit more and I could make out a big deck. There was a table with a big umbrella, pots and plants and sun chairs; it was unreal. I pressed the palm of my hand against the glass, feeling the warmth of the sun and the chill of the morning against my skin, but it was all unreal.

I looked back at Caleb’s sleeping form, his breathing was heavy. He wouldn’t be waking any time soon. My heart thundered in my chest. This was it, my chance to escape. My mind screamed, if you do this, and he catches you, you’re dead! Are you stupid! But it also said: If you don’t do this now, you may never get another chance. I made up my mind. I was going to make a break for it.

I closed the curtain behind me and quietly looked around for a way to open the door. I surveyed my surroundings and didn’t see much, no buildings, or roads, or people. I didn’t let that dissuade me. My fingers touched along the glass looking for some way to open the window, but I didn’t see or feel anything. I did the same along the wall and found nothing. Nervous and agitated, I glanced back into the room. Caleb still slept peacefully. I pushed on the glass, but that didn’t much help, DAMN IT! I could see that the glass was on tracks, so I knew it had to slide open. Think! Just think! I couldn’t see where the door opened, but it had to open somehow, so maybe…the lock was somewhere I couldn’t see. I stared at the top of the door, crushed by the realization that I definitely couldn’t reach it.

My only chance of opening the door sat in one of the corners, a big leather chair. It looked heavy. I almost screamed. I looked back at Caleb. How the hell am I going to move that without him waking up!

I walked silently toward my inanimate nemesis and gave it a hard shove. The chair made a soft scraping noise against the carpet and I instantly looked at the bed. He continued to sleep. But there was no f**king way I was going to be able to move the chair without waking him.

I glanced around the room and tried not to pass out from the rush of blood draining from my face. Hanging on the door of an armoire, was Caleb’s suit jacket and peeking out from beneath it, a shoulder holster. Could it be? Oh God, could it please f**king be? I reached for the soft fabric and lifted it. It was the biggest damn gun I had ever seen, the only one actually – but still. I felt like vomiting. Part of me wanted to forget the whole damn thing and get back in bed. What was the saying: Cowardice is the better part of valor? Fuck it! I reached for the gun. The damn thing weighed a ton.

The armoire opened and for a moment I was actually surprised by the amount of pain inflicting instruments hidden inside. Riding crops, whips, chains, and other things I didn’t recognize from watching Real Sex on HBO while at Nicole’s house. Was that a spiky dildo? I almost swooned. Had he planned to use this stuff on me? Sick f**k. And yet….

I spotted a pair of handcuffs, several actually, without fur on them. That meant they were real right? Cause it could be embarrassing otherwise. I was willing to take a chance. I put Caleb’s jacket on, instantly overwhelmed by the size of it. I set the gun on the seat of the chair and began rolling up the sleeves.

“What the hell are you doing,” Caleb’s angry voice momentarily had me frozen in place. Our eyes met, mine wide and terrified, his cold and venomous. I reached for the gun as he burst out of bed. I was faster. For once.

“Don’t f**king move! Not one step,” my voice was shrill, almost panicked. I might have shot him out of fear alone and I think he understood because he instantly halted his approach. My heart was beating too fast, my vision was hazy. Keep it together Livvie. Keep it f**king together.

“Put the gun down Kitten,” he whispered, as if I were more frightened than him. Shit, maybe I was. This probably wasn’t the first time he’d had a gun in his face, but it was definitely the first time I’d threatened someone’s life. I wanted to cry. I didn’t want to have to do this. I didn’t want to hurt him. No choice now Livvie. It’s you or him. I hated this. I felt like one of those dumb girls in the movies, holding the gun on her would-be killer and her hand is shaking and he just keeps stepping closer, but she won’t f**king kill him. Then she’s dead. Then I’m dead.

I took a deep breath and held the gun steady, ignoring how heavy it was, ignoring the twitch in my forearms as I tried to keep it level. I especially ignored the sweat in my palms, making the handle slippery. “Please Caleb,” I almost begged, “don’t move. Let me go and don’t make me kill you, cause I will. I swear to God I will.”

He was calm, too calm. “No one is going to kill anyone Kitten. But I can’t let you go. Just put it down and I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I was holding the gun, but he was the one holding me hostage. Still, my laugh was hysterical.

My mind went to that special place of mine. And perhaps, inspired by the big damn gun in my hands, conjured Dirty Harry. “I know what you're thinking,” I half choked out. “‘Did he fire six shots or only five?’ Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?” Caleb’s expression was priceless, somewhere between deep concern (for my sanity) and anger (at my idiocy).

“Kitten,” he began. I cocked the gun, with two hands because I couldn’t manage it with one. In the process my finger pressed against the trigger slightly and for the first time I saw real fear skid across my captor’s features. He swallowed. I eased my finger off the trigger, relieved I hadn’t just done something stupid, or in my case, stupid-er. I reached for the handcuffs and threw them in his direction. He caught them without breaking eye contact. “The gun isn’t loaded Kitten.”

My heart fluttered. “Bullshit Caleb. Don’t make me find out which one of us is bluffing.” He smiled, just a little. If you didn’t know him as well as I did, you’d have missed it for what it was. I don’t know why, but I looked down at his shorts. The bastard was hard. “Cuff yourself to the bed and don’t make me ask again.”

This time his smile was broad, even smug. “Kitten, if that’s what you wanted, you need only have asked?” Really? Would he have let me cuff him to the bed? Livvie! Focus.

“Just shut up and do what I said.” I was caustic. He furrowed his brow and for a moment I had forgotten who had the upper hand. Heavy metal sliding in my sweaty palm reminded me. “Now!” He walked to the post nearest me, still a few feet away and cuffed his wrists together. “Tighter,” I was impatient, nervous. He complied and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I lowered the gun, taking a moment to let the anxiety settle, to allow my vision to clear and the adrenaline to dissipate. “Feel better Pet?” he whispered, still playful. Possessed, I took two steps closer to him and slapped him so hard my hand stung. Instantly he leapt forward, his hands clutching for my hip and his feet sweeping my ankles. I fell flat on my back, the gun flung behind me. He could no longer reach me with his bound hands, but he was trying to grasp me between his legs. I scrambled backward with all my strength, refusing to be caught. I got free and collided with the chair behind me. “You’re going to pay for that Pet,” he panted. The right side of his face sported an angry red handprint.

I shook out my hand, “I already have. That was my change.”

A few minutes later, I finally had the chair close enough to the window. I stepped up and felt around the edge. Please let me be right about this. My heart made a roaring sound in my ears, and I shut my eyes against doubt. Finally, I felt a little switch and my heart stopped all together. I glanced back to see Caleb. The angry expression had left his face though my handprint remained. I said a silent prayer, stepped down, and slid the door open. Caleb’s voice came from behind, “Kitten,” he sounded worried or sad, “Don’t let me find you.” Was that a threat? I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">